Of Keys and Kryptonite
by Tobiwolf13
Summary: Dawn has a slayer dream that prompts her and teh Scoobies to go to Metropolis to save Chloe and help Clark stop Zod. Spoilers post Chosen and for Vessel on Smallville.
1. Chapter 1

Oxford University, England ------- May 10, 2006

Dawn Summers slept. At least, she tried to sleep. It had been a long day of final exams and she was both over stressed and more hyped up than she'd been in weeks. There were lots of downsides to living on the Hellmouth---the high mortality rate alone was enough to make property values plummet to record lows for Southern California. The one advantage to living in apocalypse central, however, was the schedule. There was always something rising out of the Hellmouth around exam time. It was terrible for the Slayer, but it meant that her little sister hadn't suffered through a final until her final year of high school in Italy.

It also meant that Dawn was a little out of practice in dealing with end of the year stress. Evil and veiny witches intent on turning her into energy balls she could handle, no sweat. A twenty page term about the French Revolution gave her nightmares.

It was a screwy world.

Dawn opened her eyes and squinted at the digital clock. It was quarter 'til two and she still couldn't sleep. She sighed, turned over once more, and stared at her roommate. Alexis McDowall was a slayer that Willow had located in Edinborough. She was taking classes with Dawn at Oxford (Giles had pulled a few strings), and the youngest Summers suspected it was no coincidence that she had a slayer has a roommate/body guard. Although, for the record, she had been trained alongside the potentials and she'd had three extra years of field experience and Watcher training. She didn't need anyone else. Overprotective older sisters seemed to disagree. It was okay most of the time. Alexis was a classics major, too, and surprisingly emotionally stable for a slayer.

They got along well, except for those sleepless nights when all Dawn seemed to hear was her roommate's freight train snoring. On nights like these, she was tempted to smother the slayer with a pillow, which, considering the potential victim, was pointless. When one is smothered, another is called.

Alexis snored louder while Dawn covered her ears with her pillow and closed her eyes. _Breathe in, breathe out_. _And in and out_. _And no killing the roommate_. She repeated the mantra in her head and, surprisingly, it worked.

Dawn had been made from Buffy, blood of her blood and all that mess. In the grand scheme of things it didn't seem to make much of a difference, except, of course, that such a close connection promoted swan-diving behavior in her sister. She'd never derived any personal benefits from having Buffy blood. In point of fact, she had "talk with monks" on her list of things to do. She felt cheated in the super powers department. Or at least she had until now.

If she had a super power to pick from, she probably would have chosen the slayers' unnatural grace and ability to instantly learn any martial arts move. She'd always been a little clumsy and admired Buffy's skills. Second probably would have to be the enhanced strength. Psychic dreams? Those would have been the last item on the list. The Powers That Be were just funny that way.

She dreamed she was in the middle of a large city. At first she thought it was New York or possibly downtown L.A., but if it was, she couldn't make out any defining landmarks in the horizon. For the first time, she understood why she'd had to shake Buffy out of many of her dreams. Everything felt real. Pity it wasn't a nicer picture. The streets around her were filled with looters, many of whom had already set fire to various businesses. Dawn could feel the smoke clouding her eyes and blinked back tears. She could smell the sweat of the hundreds of surging bodies and she could hear the screams. She hated the screams.

Another benefit of the Sunnydale experience was exposure to large groups of panicking people. Granted, she'd mostly seen people flee from disaster. Sunnydale may have imploded, but there hadn't been riots. Well, there was that one time with the Gentlemen, but there'd been the Initiative to keep the peace. As far as she could tell, the cavalry wasn't coming, or if it had, it had gotten its ass seriously kicked.

Reflexively, Dawn jumped to her right as a group of five men, all of them armed with bricks or pipes, ran through where'd she'd been. She didn't much like the look in their eyes anymore than she liked the smoke. It was a hungry, predatory look---the same one she'd seen most vampires sport. It was a whole city in game face.

She shivered.

The most disorienting part of the dream was that she couldn't tell when she was. Before her sister had been called, she dreamed about the lives of past slayers. But then again Buffy had also seen the future and watched helplessly as potentials were slaughtered before her eyes. Dawn hoped it was a precognitive dream because then there was a chance the Scooby Council could stop it, even if all the big bads were human.

She kept walking, rubbing her arms as she went, trying to stave off an overwhelming feeling of cold. Desperate for anything to wrap around her arms, she picked up a discarded newspaper but stopped.

"Mm, _Daily Planet_. That explains a why I didn't recognize it. The shopping in Metropolis sucks." She said to herself before dropping the paper back down. She wasn't that desperate, not yet.

Then she heard it, a scream louder and more piercing than any of the others. Instinctively, she reached for the stake that should have been in her jacket pocket. Humans and stakes didn't exactly mix, as Faith could tell you, but step one in Hellmouth disaster training was to keep a piece of wood handy.

She cursed under her breath when she found nothing more lethal in her pockets than an old gum wrapper.

"Screw it." She muttered as she ran toward the noise. Martial arts training had to count for something, right?

Dawn skidded to a stop in front of a crashed limousine. There were five men crouched ten feet away, and she could see flashes of someone underneath them. She could make out brassy blond hair and glimpses of a suit jacket.

"Stop!" She yelled, sounding braver than she actually felt. The men stopped, stood up, and eyed her with the same predatory ferocity that had infected the city.

The tallest man, casually dressed in jeans and a green t-shirt, glared at her. "And who's going to make us, little girl. You?"

If Buffy had been here, she would have thought up something clever or flippant. Buffy had super powers; she could afford to be a smart-ass. "I guess so."

"Have it your way," tall guy said. He nodded and the mob started running towards Dawn. She braced herself in her best defensive stance and readied herself for the attack.

And then she woke up.

She awoke to see Alexis standing over her, both hands gripping her shoulders. "Dawnie, are you okay?"

"Don't call me Dawnie," she replied automatically. It was a minor point after her (first) intense psychic dream, but she really got tired of being treated as a little kid. If she were fifty, the Scooby Council and by extension all the slayers would still call her Dawnie.

"Sorry. Wasn't thinking." Alexis frowned. "Are you okay? You were screaming pretty loud. It wasn't about Glory was it?"

Dawn shook her head. She still had occasional nightmares about the day her sister died and she'd opened the portal to…well everywhere. "No. This was something different." She paused and Alexis glared at her. "Alright, so no more pauses for dramatic effect then. I think I had a slayer dream."

"But you're not a slayer."

"Stating the obvious much? But I have slayer blood, so maybe some of it finally kicked in."

"Can you be sure?"

"Are you ever sure when it happens?"

Alexis nodded, "Yeah, it feels real; all five senses just go into overdrive."

"Then it was definitely a slayer dream. I don't understand why I had one and you didn't, but I think there might be a potential in trouble."

"But there aren't any potentials, hence big-ass slayer spell that Willow pulled off."

"Well maybe there are new potentials?" Dawn offered but frowned. "That doesn't really make sense, but there's a girl in big trouble and I think someone has to save her."

"Since when do slayer dreams deal with just one person? I thought they were about preparing slayers for the big smack-down. You know, apocalypse type stuff."

Dawn thought back to the riots and the raging fires. "It sure seemed apocalypse-level to me."

"Alright," Alexis said, her eyes narrowed and her head tilted toward her. "Clearly, you think---"

"I know."

"You think you know someone is in trouble. Then the next logical questions are where do we need to go and is what you saw a rerun?"

Dawn took a breath. "Metropolis."

Alexis laughed and then stopped herself when Dawn glared at her. "So you had a dream about Kansas?"

"Buffy dreamed about girls in Germany."

"Fair enough. So, round two: is it something that has happened or is about to go down?"

Dawn squinted her eyes and tried to recall the newspaper she'd read. "I saw a date." She scrunched up her forehead in deeper concentration and then widened her eyes. "It's tomorrow's date."

"Even if we got on the Concord tonight and explained the credit card expense to Mr. Giles, we probably won't make it there in time."

Dawn nodded, "But we know someone who can. Get me the phone and I think I can sort everything out."

Alexis arched and eyebrow, "You think everything's going to be all five-by-five, but do you really think that 'the burned out street corner in the middle of a riot' are good enough directions to give her. Oh and to keep her from kicking your butt."

Dawn bit her lower lip. "I'm putting a lot of trust in slayer sense."

"And when you tell her that you're the one with the link to the psychic friend's network?"

"No worries. I'm telling her that you've been having the nightmare for a week and finally broke down and told me."

"So she can kick my ass when she makes the trip to Kansas and finds out she left her post for nothing. Gee thanks, Dawnie."

"I live to serve. Now hand me the phone."

Alexis saluted. "Aye-aye, captain. But if I were you, I still think of a more specific location than 'that burned out crap hole.'"

"How about a block to the west of the _Daily Planet _headquarters?"

Alexis handed her the phone and shook her head. "She's still going to kill you for this."

"It's early in the States."

"Yeah, but you'll be interrupting her prime violence time."

Metropolis, Kansas ------------------------------------------------- May 11, 2006; 6:00 pm

Chloe Sullivan was terrified. She'd been in trouble before. Hell, it seemed like the meteor freaks in Smallville when they weren't tracking down Lana Lang, were knocking down her door. She'd been put into witness protection, almost blown up, and put the most powerful man in the state behind bars almost single-handedly. But she'd never been alone. Even before she'd known the truth about her best friend, she'd always had it in the back of her mind that, if things got bad enough, Clark would step in and save her. It's what he did. Before she'd moved to Smallville, she'd always had Lois and her uncle the General, to watch her back.

This time, she knew the cavalry wasn't coming.

Lois was half way to Washington by now and Clark was somewhere in the middle of this hellhole hopefully beating Fine and Zod into bloody pulps or maybe in Fine's case liquid metal pulps. Whatever. No one was going to save her now.

Despite that, Chloe couldn't quell her instincts. She screamed as the pack of rioters began to assault her and continued until someone clamped a filthy hand over her mouth. She felt at least five sets of hands pawing over her body and shuddered when her suit jacket was ripped off. She struggled more, bucking against the arms of her captors, unwilling to let them take what she feared they wanted. Two of the men leaned down lower and pressed their bulk against her hips, forcing her to remain still.

She looked up and the man holding his hand over her mouth smiled at her and pulled out a long switch blade. He drew it over the skin of her chest. She could feel the coldness of the blade and waited for it to dig deeper and draw blood. The other four laughed and catcalled as the leader began to tear progressively larger slits into her blouse.

Chloe closed her eyes. There were a lot of things she'd witnessed as a reporter (even a junior one) but watching her own assault would not be one of them.

The blade slice in front of her stomach and nicked the flesh near her navel. Chloe flinched and waited for the next, deeper cut. Instead she felt the rush of wind over face and the welcome sensation of fresh air rushing into her mouth.

She opened her eyes and watched as a dark haired girl threw knife guy twenty feet into the chain link fence behind them. Knife guy groaned, grabbed his head, and struggled to his knees. "You're going to pay for that, bitch."

The other four men released Chloe and rushed into a circle to surround the girl. Chloe sat up and grabbed her jacket and turned to get a better view of the fight. At first, she could only see the girl from behind and thought she might be Andrea, the vigilante also known as the Angel of Vengeance. The long dark hair was the same and so was the propensity for dark black clothing, but this girl wasn't wearing a bandana.

She also didn't fight like Andrea did.

Andrea, much like Clark, was all about brute strength. While this new girl was obviously strong---how else could she chuck a guy twice her size half way across the street---she was also unbelievably graceful.

As the first of the two rioters rushed toward her, the girl dodged to the right and then executed a left spin kick. Her leg impacted with the taller of the two men and he lost his balance and collided into the other. They both fell to the pavement.

The second two also rushed in tandem but then broke apart to circle the girl. The man behind her aimed a punch toward the back of her head. The girl spun around, caught the man's fist in mid-strike and pulled his arm down as hard as she could. A loud pop rang out through the street and suddenly his left shoulder hung two inches lower than his right. During this time the second assailant attempted to wrap his arms around her chest to subdue her. The girl dropped the first man's arms and brought her head back and into the nose of the man holding her.

He screamed as blood streamed from his nose to the pavement.

The girl grabbed both men by their jackets and half dragged-half threw them on top of the first two would-be muggers.

"Are you tired yet? Because I can go all night." She sneered. The men shook their heads and started to back towards the nearest alley. The girl smiled and straightened her jean jacket. "Good call, jack-asses." She turned toward Chloe and offered her a hand up, until the reporter shouted:

"Behind you!"

The dark haired girl back flipped over the head of on-rushing knife guy and kicked him in the back, sending him head first into the nearest wall. He moaned and then blacked out.

"Smooth," Chloe commented hopping up. "It might have been a bit more impressive if you could keep count."

"Buffy was always on us about watching our backs and keeping our guards up. Of course, since I tried to tune her out as much as possible, I sort of missed out on most of those lessons." The girl shook her head and laughed at her own private joke. "I'm Kennedy.'

Chloe stuck out her hand and waited for her savior to shake it. "Chloe Sullivan and do you come with a last name, or does this whole super hero gig require a one word moniker?"

"Moniker, huh? I haven't heard that word since my first Watcher was still alive. I guess your one of those brainy types." Her voice trailed off and Chloe swore she caught the phrase "Like Willow".

"Okay," Chloe said, trying in vain to brush the grime off of her jacket, "I really appreciate the rescue and the Deus ex Machina of the whole thing was wonderful, but I have places to be and possibly a billionaire to save, which is kind of funny considering the previous phases in our relationship." She started walking past Kennedy, but the other girl gripped her arm and wouldn't let go. Chloe could have tried pressing forward, but she'd rather not have her shoulder dislocated today if she could help. It didn't appear that the chiropractors would be open any time soon.

She sighed. "Could you let go please."

"Yeah because this in addition to the eight hour drive to Kansas was the highlight of my day. I promised my friends that I'd stay with you and keep you safe."

"Like a bodyguard."

"Yeah, fine, whatever. I think I prefer that to the term 'glorified babysitter,' but if that works for you too----"

Chloe shook her head and tried to dislodge herself from Kennedy's grip. "So you were sent?"

"Jeez, twenty questions much. What's there to know? There's a freaking riot all around you and your guardian angel shows up, kicks ass, and now you want to just walk back out into Attempted Rape Land. Are you crazy?"

"No. I just don't think I can trust you"

"Because I'm always afraid when someone saves me from a big, sharp, pointy knife. I think we can add paranoid down on the list with overly curious."

"Gee, thanks. Can you drop my arm now? I'm serious. I have one um…acquaintance who needs help and a roommate who is in serious trouble. I don't have time for the molly coddling. Besides, the last girl I met who could throw people twenty feet murdered a guy in cold blood, and the woman before that almost ripped my hometown apart."

Kennedy dropped Chloe's arm and arched an eyebrow at her. "So this whole super-powered thing isn't a shock to you. Well, that's certainly interesting. I guess you've seen your share of vampires in your day."

"Actually, I have but that's another story. If you promise me that a) you're not from another planet and that b) you've never even heard of Smallville, I'll at least let you follow me."

"How grateful of you," Kennedy deadpanned and then responded, "A) That's the craziest and most paranoid thing I've heard in years and Dana came to Rio for rehab, and B) I make it a point never to visit any place that emphasizes it's puniness in its name. I used to summer in the Hamptons."

Chloe looked over the girls torn and filthy jeans. One of the spots she swore could have been blood. "Right, okay then, let's start looking for that needle in a haystack, or that corporate mogul in the middle of a riot. However you wanna look at it."

"Agreed. It's not like we'll be getting back to Cleveland anytime tonight."

"Cleveland?"

"All part of the long story, which I figure Faith can explain to you. I'm really just the errand girl in this deal. Let's get a move on." With that, the two girls started jogging toward where Chloe had last seen Lionel.

Rome, Italy --------------------------------------------------- May 12, 2006; 12 am

Buffy Summers applied extra mascara in time to the impatient pounding on the other side of the door. The Slayer sighed and shouted in response, "Xander, you knew what you agreed to when you came to Rome for some quality time. It's not like in Africa, I can't consider washing the dust off of me the same as being ready for some serious club time."

Xander Harris leaned his head against the door and mumbled, "I know, but it's been almost two hours and it's not like we didn't go out to dinner first. You looked great then, Buff. How could you improve on that?"

"First of all, we staked a vamp in the alley right afterwards, which means dustiness for me. Second, clubbing in Italy is a whole new ballgame. It's not like I can just wear any pair of jeans."

"When you care enough only to wear your very best pleather."

"Please, I'm all about the real cows now."

Xander paused before responding. "You know, there are several ways to take that last statement." He sighed. "The Immortal really did spoil you."

At the mention of her former boyfriend's name, Buffy's grip on the mascara slipped and she poked her eye. "Damn it Xander! I'm trying to concentrate here. Besides I thought we had that rule about not mentioning demony significant others."

"We did, but Dawn e-mailed me this morning and highlighted for me what an utter tool that guy was."

"'Tool'? That was the best insult she could come up with," Buffy said as she reached for her lipstick. "The girl speaks five languages and cusses in several demon ones. I'm sort of disappointed."

Xander chuckled. "Oh she came up with one much better than that, Buffster, but I thought I tone it down a bit so that you wouldn't kill her next time she left Merry Old. Seriously, though, what were you thinking? I mean, I hated Dead Boy and Dead Boy, Jr., but even they fought pretty clearly on team white hat when it mattered. The Immortal was a bad news alchemist with half of Europe under his spell."

Buffy threw down her lip stick so hard that it chipped the counter, flakes of marble spilled to the floor. "What part of 'not talking about the exes' was hard to remember?"

"Sorry." Xander said in a tone that indicated he was anything but.

The Slayer sighed and started cleaning up her bathroom floor. Rubbing the marble dust of her hands, she replied, "It's okay. I mean, I understand. There was a really long time when I couldn't understand how you could date A…Cordelia and I still don't know what the hell Willow saw in Kennedy."

"Ditto with all your undead dating choices, but, for the record, I really liked Riley."

Buffy chuckled. There was a good chance that if she'd consented, Xander would have asked Riley out himself after she grew bored with him. Not that Xander swung that way, but he had developed quite the little man crush on her loyal soldier ex. "Fair enough. I guess it's a good thing for all of us that we don't let the other Scoobies pick our dates."

Xander nodded and donned his best goofy grin as Buffy opened the bathroom door. He stared down at his best friend and sputtered. The Slayer found it adorable. The now rugged Watcher had harbored a crush for her on and off since tenth grade and it seemed that she'd triggered that semi-buried desire. It was flattering, actually. When she'd first come to Rome, she hadn't been the most popular girl at the disco. It wasn't like she'd been fending off guys at the Bronze, but she'd gotten asked to dance a few times whenever she and Willow and Xander went out. In Rome, she hadn't started out as the "it girl" type. The last few years of trauma at Sunnydale had stripped her of the last of her baby fat, leaving behind a lithe, sinewy woman, refining her until she was nothing but weapon. It might have made her a better slayer, but, in Dawn's words, it made her skeleton skinny.

Guys, it appeared, did not date Skeletor. Dawn's mothering and second helpings of pasta had given her back her curves and with them her ability to attract male attention. Of course, she'd also managed to attract one of the all time jerks of the world, The Immortal. At first, she'd been under his spell (literally as it turns out) and devoted almost all of her time to him. Then she'd caught him cheating on her with several female S'varlok demons, at the same time no less. No Jedi mind trick or whatever crap he'd been pulling could make her overlook that. She'd kicked his ass to the curb.

Dawn had smiled for weeks.

Now she was happy-go-lucky Buffy, or as close as this Slayer ever got to happy-go-lucky. There were too many vamps in her closet for her to ever feel completely free, even becoming unchosen one hadn't lessened her sense of responsibility. After all, as both she and Faith had realized, training slayers was almost as difficult as being one. But tonight, she was trying to be Club Hopping!Buffy with Eye Patchin Wearing!Xander as her trusty side kick. Life was good, and, judging by the way Xander still hadn't managed to breathe, her black leather pants and red halter were broadcasting her partying mood. There were a lot of things Buffy hated about Faith, but she had to give the other Senior Slayer credit, Faith-wear definitely attracted male attention.

Buffy laughed and turned in a circle, shaking her rear a little for Xander. "So, now do you see why I didn't want to wear jeans?"

"Uh-huh," he coughed and his voice dropped back to its normal octave range. "Maybe you should burn all your non-leather pants. It's a very good luck for you." He winced when his voice broke on the "y" in very.

"Glad you approved. Now, I know you thought that Nairobi had the best nightlife out there, but there are clubs in Italy that don't close until the sunrises. You are going to love it."

"Will there be other women wearing nothing but Faith's hand-me-downs."

"So you do recognize the look?" Buffy's smile widened. "Probably and they'll speak little English, so even your conversation skills won't scare them off."

"Shows what you know. The Harris Wit is legendary and I had been planning to regale them with stories of my adventures on the high seas, arrr."

"And now?"

"I'm mostly going to drool."

"Good plan," she replied as she started for her bedroom. "I just want to grab the right purse and we can leave."

"Great," Xander said, rubbing his hands together. "Because I'd hate for you to suffer through the pain of realizing your purse was actually navy blue and you'd been clashing all night. Of course, a few shots in you, and you probably won't be able to tell said colors apart…"

The Slayer arched an eyebrow at him from her bedroom doorway. "What? He responded. "After a fiancé, a girlfriend, and a decade female best friends, I can actually tell navy from black. Well…most of the time."

"Right, Mr. House of Style, if you'll excuse me, I---" And then the lights went out.

Rio de Janiero, Brazil

Willow Rosenberg concentrated and the darkened living room was lit with  
flickering flames. It had been a busy two hours. For a bunch of girls with  
superpowers, the younger slayers sure panicked easily. Of course, Willow  
reminded herself, not everyone had the distinct advantage (?) of growing up in  
the mouth of hell. That was great for working on your stoicism, especially if  
the world almost ended every six months.

Absentmindedly, the witch reached out her hand to her left side. She hadn't  
even realized that she was reaching out for her…no, no longer her  
slayer…for Kennedy for support. Even though the last three months of their  
relationship had been filled with fights, Willow still associated the  
hard-headed slayer with security and control. Even with  
Kennedy stationed in Cleveland, Willow still sought her out as her tether.

A kite with no string was going to stray too far. Of course, in Willow's case  
that straying included Apocalyptic levels of badness and not soaring through  
the clouds. The red witch sighed and blew her bangs up off her forehead. She  
turned when she heard whistling.

Maya reminded Willow a lot of Buffy. She was slight and short, still a few  
inches shorter than Willow herself. She also possessed a great deal of self  
control. It was hard for Willow sometimes to get into the younger girl's head, to  
understand her. Kennedy had been better at that, especially with the more  
stubborn slayers. Maya, however, had also displayed a bit of magical talent  
and Willow had been trying to connect to her through that. Besides, there were obvious advantages to a slyer with magical abilities. A slayer who had access to a ball  
of sunshine spell or who could summon fire with a word would be a force to be reckoned  
with.

That's why the young slayer was here now, she had helped Willow collect and  
set out the candles for her spell. The headquarters of the Amazons was equipped  
with the best safety equipment (both top of the line weapons and the typical  
emergency preparedness kits) and Willow had dutifully doled out the supplies to  
each of her twenty charges. The candles, however, were enchanted and would last  
as long as the power outage did whereas batteries in flashlights and oil supplies in  
old lanterns tended to run out. After the chaos of the First, the witch knew  
that some power outages could last for weeks, and she had the sinking feeling  
that this outage could last even longer.

Shaking the gloomy thoughts from her head, she grinned at Maya, "It's cool,  
huh? It took me a long time to get the basic spells down, you know? I was well  
into college before I could summon fire without making the other elements go  
all kerpluey."

"Dios mio. I can see that. I can't wait until I get the fireball spell  
down. That's going to be so cool!"

"Just don't scorch any of the other girls' outfits on patrol.  
First time I tried it while visiting Buffy in Italy, I ruined her favorite pair  
of boots."

"And Mr. Pointy."

"Scorched, just scorched." She shook her head. "You are never going to  
let me forget that one, are you? Being a bad-ass goddess is a lot harder than  
it looks."

"Uh-huh. Do you need anything else before I get back to the dorms?"

"Yeah, could you hand me the laptop on the way out. The batteries won't  
last too long, even with a magical boost, but I want to check on all the  
emergency information, considering that the radios and tv are out."

"No problema." The young slayer conceded tossing a somewhat frantic Willow  
the computer. The witch spun around and stuck her hand out, causing the laptop  
to stay suspended in mid-air.

"Hey!"

"I knew you were going to catch it."

"Know it all slayers. Make sure the girls are armed and ready for patrol. You  
all spend so much time wandering around in the dark, you should have cat-style night  
vision anyway, but hopefully not the fleas."

"Aye-aye, capitan."

Willow flipped open her computer and let it warm up as the other girl left.  
She looked over the candle arrangement, making sure that none of them were too  
close to the edge of the table. Magically enhanced candles were great to see  
by, but she really didn't want to have to write an invoice to Giles  
explaining why the South American Scooby Council headquarters had been engulfed  
by flames. The witch glanced back down at her computer screen and blanched.

She hadn't even tried to access the internet yet and her computer was a mess  
of scrawling symbols. Their unnatural green glow reminded her briefly of the  
matrix, but Willow could read code. This wasn't it. At least it wasn't any  
code she had ever seen. Like the rest of the Scoobies, even Xander if he'd  
ever admit to it, Willow had seen dozens of different demon languages and could  
read several crucial ancient ones, including Hieroglyphics and Cuneiform. While  
the symbols were reminiscent of these writing systems, they weren't the same.

Willow frowned, placed her hands over the keyboards, and concentrated. It had  
been years since she'd melded minds with a computer, not since the incident  
with the diamond heist back during that awful year. She wasn't sure she could  
still do it, if she wanted to still do it. The witch took a deep breath and let  
the information flow through her.

She blanched. Never in her life had she felt anything like it, not with  
draining Rack, not with the scythe, not even with her first spell restoring  
Angel's soul (she did that a lot, actually, and had to clarify the times in  
her mind. The gypsies may have been powerful curse wielders, but overall, the  
spell still sucked. Too many gosh darn loop holes). The closest she had come to  
this type of power and utter otherness was the time she'd tried to turn Dawn  
back into the Key.

It wasn't mystical so much as it was different, alien. It was something  
beyond even Willow's comprehension. She shivered.

(Buffy) she called out with her mind. Willow hesitated and called out more  
loudly this time, (Buffy, Xander, can you hear me?) She hadn't tried to  
psychically link to them since their super secret Scooby meetings on Revello Drive  
(some things, such as the phrase "cannon fodder" thank you very much Anya,  
could not be said in front of the Potentials), and she did not like to do it.  
It reminded her of how powerful she was and how easy it would be to do more  
than just communicate mind-to-mind.

However, she really doubted that Cingular Wireless was working right now.

(Guys! Is everything alright?) Willow counted the seconds off in her head and  
started chewing at her nails. They had to be fine. It wasn't like freaky  
South American computer malfunctions were the same as a vamp attack.

(Great googly-moogly, Wills. What have I said about the whole Jean Gray thing?)  
Xander grumped.

(Sorry, and I promise not to go poking around in your brain or anything, but I  
really didn't know what else to do. Everything here is dead. I mean even the  
CB and you don't want to even ask about the internet.)

(In Rio? That is so weird because the power just went out in Rome not forty  
five minutes ago, and Xand and I were about to go out.) The Slayer replied.  
Willow could swear that even via telepathy Buffy was pouting.

(I don't think this is localized. I…have you tried to get in touch with  
Giles or Faith?)

(We tried the whole "can you hear me now" approach, but we don't have the  
mojo for cross continental think tanks.) Xander replied. (What do you want to  
do?)

Willow took in a deep breath. (I'm going to call up Giles and Faith, see  
exactly what we're dealing with, but I think it'd be best if you two were  
already at Slayer Central.)

(Because I'm sure there's air travel when there isn't even electricity)  
Xander snarked. Willow ignored him. He was scared and this was the best way he  
could cope.

(Teleportation then. Will?) Buffy asked, her pout replaced by her  
down-to-business Slaymaster General voice, (Can you get us as far as Dawn's  
dorm room. I need to collect her. If this power outage is as on a big a scale  
as we think it is, I don't want her alone.)

(There is Alexis.) Willow pointed out.

(I know, but she's still green, well not literally, but she's new and this  
is my baby sister we're talking about. Besides, Dawnie's is only a few  
blocks from Council HQ and we can all walk over together.)

(I can make that work and with no nosebleeds anymore, which is pretty much a  
yay me thing.)

(A passage to England for two. Is there any reason why the new and improved  
council couldn't have been based in Hawaii?) There was a pause and Willow  
could just imagine Buffy's glare. (I'm just saying) Xander mumbled.

(Alright. Grab your favorite sharp and pointy friends and I'll be ready to  
send you right off. I'm also keeping the line of communication open. Just let  
me know when you get there. I want to make sure you made it there in one piece.)

(There's a chance we'll end up in pieces?) Xander yelped.

(Figure of speech. This is much easier than the slayer creation spell, and that  
turned out okay didn't it.) Willow closed her eyes and concentrated, breathing  
deeply in meditation. (Ready?)

(Yes.) Buffy, of course.

(No.) Xander.

(One, two, three.) Willow tried to stifle her giggles as Xander yipped in mid  
teleportation. Actually, it might not have been all about Xander and his Air  
Willow travel squeamishness. The magic felt different now. It had come for so  
long from a place of pain and of control. Now Willow could feel the joy and the  
life in her spells, and they made her giddy. Struggling to stifle the laughter  
in her head, she asked (Everything okay?)

(Yes and no.) Buffy replied tersely.

(You both did make it there, right?)

(Easier than the slayer spell my ass) Xander griped.

(Yes. Don't listen to Xand; he can be a baby sometimes.)

(Yeah, living on the Savannah has made me a real softy.)

(Then what's the problem?)

(Dawn's gone.)

(Well, I'm sure she's just down the hall or in the commons room, Buffy).

(Not unless her commons rooms has been moved to Kansas.) Xander supplied.

(Oh no.)

(I'm going to find her, drag her back home, and then I am going to kill her  
myself.) Buffy growled.

Willow shivered and hoped for Dawn's sake that her sister never found her.


	2. Chapter 2

Luthorcorp Towers, Metropolis

Lana Lang could smell the city burning. It was amazing the things that remained  
stored in memory, scents and sights that one had long ago thought forgotten.  
Tiger lilies, whenever she smelled them, reminded her of long, lazy summer days  
spent with Aunt Nell. Even now, four years after her aunt had moved to the city,  
that flower's particular aroma brought back vivid Technicolor memories of  
swinging on the porch swing, nestled in her aunts lap and listening to the  
summer crickets. Lana had never thought about the flip side of trips down  
memory lane. It had been seventeen years since she'd smelled burning flesh and  
felt cinders rain down upon her, but all of a sudden she was three again and  
back in Smallville in that stupid fairy princess costume.

She shook and pressed herself more tightly into Lex's embrace. Something wasn't  
right. She couldn't quite figure out what it was, but he wasn't acting like  
himself. He was too quiet, too watchful. He had always been cunning and more  
observant than most people, maybe even more so than Chloe, but now, as he  
watched her, his gaze felt different. It wasn't thoughtful. It was predatory,  
as if she were being watched by the eyes of some waiting alligator, instead of  
those of her boyfriend.

"Lex, the city's falling apart." Sometimes even she wanted to smack herself  
for the shades of Captain Obvious she displayed, but there wasn't exactly a set  
of preferred phrases to invoke when Armageddon came. Well "Oh crap" and  
"Aiiee" probably came closest to the best things to say, but they were  
hardly pithy.

If possible, Lex's Cheshire cat smirk widened. "I know."

"But Chloe and your father are down there. I know you guys pretty much try to  
kill each other on a weekly basis, but he's your father. We have to do  
something."

"But we are. We're protecting ourselves and enjoying the view."

Shocked, Lana struggled to pull herself back, but Lex wouldn't allow it. For  
the first time, she realized what all those preparations Fine had gifted him  
with really meant. In a fair fight, she might have had a chance to take him. It  
was doubtful considering he'd had more training than she, but given an element  
of surprise or a concentrated effort on her part, a victory was still possible.  
But now, with his strength, the entire defensive line of the Metropolis Sharks  
wouldn't be able to take him down. Lana suddenly felt every inch the fragile  
princess the town of Smallville had always made her out to be. "Lex, let me  
go."

He squeezed her, not hard enough to injure her but enough to make breathing  
difficult. "Now why would I want to do that? This night has proven  
infinitely more interesting and satisfying than I could have imagined, and  
considering I've spent years planning this out, that is quite the  
accomplishment."

"But...everyone else..."

"The ones who die tonight should feel lucky. Tomorrow will be so much  
worse."

"What happens tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow I take what's mine."

She struggled again, desperate to drag oxygen back into her lungs. Everything  
was getting so dark. "Nothing's yours...not anything...besides Luthorcorp."

"But now thanks to the modifications made by your Milton Fine," Lex chuckled at the mention of the professor's name and Lana couldn't figure out what the joke was. "Thanks to his assistance, Earth is mine." He squeezed harder and Lana submitted to the darkness.

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	3. Chapter 3

Somewhere in Kansas

Alexis MacDowall had never been more terrified in her life. The morning that a  
fifty something librarian with an earring of all weird things had shown up on  
her door step talking about witches and vampires and mystical destinies hadn't  
been scary, at least not in the wet-your-pants way. Mostly, she'd laughed off  
the whole encounter and asked when he'd stopped taking his medication. When the  
same man had shown up the next night and bet her five pounds that he could prove  
it, she'd been annoyed but game. She already had a brown belt in Judo (it would  
be black belt by now if she could just hone her somewhat spastic coordination)  
in case he tried anything plus there was this new leather jacket she'd been  
saving up for. That night when a hand shot out of a freshly dug grave and tried  
to drag her under, she'd cried. The day she slew her first demon solo, she'd  
been shaking so badly she thought her rattling teeth would break one another.  
None of that was a consequence to this.

Alexis MacDowall, slayer, was bargaining with the Almighty to spare her life. "Oh God, please if you let me live, I promise I'll stop reading those trashy  
romance novels I like so much. I'll only read like the Bible from now on, in  
original Hebrew even."

Dawn glared at her. "Shut up. We're going to be fine. Besides, what are you  
complaining about? You have accelerated healing."

"Key word 'healing.' I'm not invulnerable and if I get thrown through the  
bloody windshield it's going to take at least a week for the bones to heal.  
That's if the car crash you're aiming for doesn't decapitate me first!"

"Car crash? Pft." Dawn replied, taking her hands off the steering wheel and  
fluttering them about in a dismissive gesture, which immediately made Alexis  
reach for her cross necklace.

"Hands on wheel!" the slayer shouted. "Hands are always on the wheel.  
God, who taught you how to drive?"

"Well, my sister tried to teach me a little, plus Spike took me out in  
Xander's car that summer Buffy was...gone. Oh and Leonardo let me drive his  
Vespa around Rome a lot when we were dating."

"Argh. We are so dead. Buffy's not allowed near any of the official Council  
vehicles because, and I quote, 'The Council simply cannot afford the cost of  
increased insurance should the Slayer be behind the wheel.' And they all drive  
crazy in Italy."

"Xenophobic generalization, much. It's this wrong side of the road crap that's  
really confusing in Europe," Dawn replied, swerving the rental car around a  
large pot hole and jumping into the left-hand lane. Alexis shrieked.

"Why can't I drive again."

"You don't have a license. Besides, this right-side of the road thing is  
pretty complicated; even Giles's license lapsed." Dawn swerved out of the  
left lane just in time to avoid a head-on collision with a pick-up truck.

"Yeah, the right side of the road, because you've done such a brilliant job  
of staying there so far!"

"No complaining, Who got us as far as Kansas City in the first place?"

Alexis chuckled. "Aye, that's true enough. I can't believe you blackmailed  
Angelus."

Dawn started to make that same dismissive gesture with her hands before Alexis  
slapped them back onto the wheel. The youngest Summers sighed. "First, it's  
just Angel. You can tell by the total lack of fashion sense he displays.  
Second, he's really not that scary, especially since we all know he wouldn't  
kill a human. Even if he did want to hurt me, which he probably does, knowing  
what I have on him, he wouldn't dare because then he and Buffy would never get  
back together."

"I thought he was dating that Wolf Girl."

"Puppy love. Buffy's like this big, shiny carrot that the Powers That Be  
dangle in front of Angel to keep him going. Trust me, deep down, he's got some  
fantasy about the two of them reuniting sans that stupid sex curse, and can I  
just say 'eww' to that?"

"Still, what in the world can you have on him that's worth the use of the  
Wolfram and Hart jet."

"Okay, it's totally not the Wolfram and Hart jet anymore, since he was smart  
enough to set it and quite a lot of money aside in a secret English locale  
right before he staged his little Godfather-style coup."

"How do you hide a jet?"

"Forget that. How can a vampire who can't even access a voice mail, set up an  
offshore account. He's at least smoother than I gave him credit for, even if he  
was the only to survive the bloodbath and the army thing. I feel sort of bad  
for Wesley."

"Faith's old Watcher, right?"

"It's a complicated history, better than a soap opera if you can catch up on  
all the installments." Dawn looked over to Alexis and then winced as the car  
drifted into the guard rails. Sparks flew and she jerked the wheel back into  
position. "Oops."

"If I have get myself a car, you can never even look at it. So Angel escapes,  
make his way to Merry Old where he's conveniently stashed a slush fund and a  
cute little werewolf, and he begs the Council for clemency in exchange for  
working squarely for team white hat."

"Exactly."

"And no one bothers to punish him for joining up with the number one source  
of evil on the planet. Good lord, evil law firm, could they at least be less  
obvious. How about an evil bakery or preschool? Something different."

"Yeah, because baked goods bring in so much money."

"They could if you've ever tasted a good rhubarb pie or even a mince meat  
pie."

"I have and eww again. So not the point. Angel did get punishment. After all  
Andrew got reassigned to be his personal assistant and that's  
non-negotiable."

"He's not that bad."

"You only say that because you actually like playing Dungeons and Dragons."

"It's fun and I didn't see you complaining when we played it last week."

"There was drinking involved. If you make it into a drinking game, anything  
can be fun. For instance, every time you read through the Pergammenon Codex and  
see the word 'dire' you should take a swig of rum. Makes the whole thing that  
much more bearable. It's a pretty dull read otherwise." Dawn swerved around a  
little old couple in a Buick and continued once again up the left lane for a few  
hundred feet before a semi came into view. She swerved back, giving the big  
truck more than enough space.

"Yeah, that might be kind of fun." Alexis paused and wrinkled her nose. "Our lives aren't like other peoples'."

"We blackmailed a two hundred year old vampire and ex-CEO into borrowing an  
experimental jet, pilot included, to get to Metropolis before the mother of all  
blackouts in order to track down a girl who may or may not be a slayer of the  
undead based on a possible prophetic dream a girl who isn't even real had."

"Just so were on the same page." Alexis gulped as Dawn pressed the limits  
of tail-gating. The slayer swore she could count every hair on the head of the  
man driving the car in front of them. "So, what exactly did you have on Angel  
anyway?"

"Actually, Andrew gets most of the credit. Apparently Angel was in Rome on  
Wolfram and Hart business once before he 'gave notice.'"

"So what?"

Dawn reached out her right hand and started digging in the glove box; she  
leaned over below the dashboard and continued to fish for the item in question  
all while keeping her left palm on the steering wheel. Alexis wondered if Dawn  
was considered a much better driver than Buffy, how bad the Slayer actually was.  
She also wondered if she'd put on clean underwear because she  
was sure they were going to get into an accident before they reached Metropolis.  
Finally, Dawn found what she was looking for and tossed it onto Alexis's lap.

"Pictures? Andrew took pictures?"

"You sound disappointed." Dawn said as she (finally) went back to looking  
at the road.

"He's one of the most evil vamps on record---"

"Reformed." Dawn said, although her tone implied she didn't completely buy  
that argument.

"Whatever and he's worried about a few pictures."

"Did you look at them?"

Alexis glanced down at the photos and burst out laughing; it was several  
minutes before she was able to speak. "Bloody hell! What in the world is he  
wearing? It looks like some deranged racing jacket."

"I know and he totally looks fat in it."

"Agreed. He really doesn't want Buffy to see these, huh?"

"This is a vamp who spends an hour a day gelling his hair into place. He  
redefines vain."

"Apparently enough to give his jet away to a couple of college sophomores."

"Hello, Junior Watcher and a very capable slayer. But yeah, blackmail is a  
beautiful thing." Dawn laughed and swerved to the right into a cornfield when  
the car in front of her unexpectedly slowed. Alexis paled. "See piece of cake.  
We should get to Metropolis right before the power outages."

"You know, Faith is still going to kill you for dragging her arse from  
Cleveland to Kansas for a hunch, especially if you're already there."

"Again, it was all your idea, slayer." Alexis didn't know it, but the  
devilish grin Dawn offered her was an exact copy perfected by watching a  
certain platinum blond baiting another slayer back in Sunnydale so long ago.

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	4. Chapter 4

Kennedy was confused and angry. Actually being confused often led to being  
angry. She was a slayer, damn it, and she was not used to taking orders.  
Alright, back in Sunnydale she'd been under the thumb of insufferable Queen  
Bitch Buffy, but she'd been on her own for three years now, fighting off all  
sorts of big bad South American evil, thank you very much. She'd been the head  
slayer in their little cabal, and while she'd looked toward Willow for some  
guidance and support, as far as the Amazon Slayers were concerned, she was the  
boss.

Or she had been. Their relationship had crumbled and Kennedy wasn't even sure  
why. All of a sudden the support she'd always relied on wasn't their and the  
look in Willow's eyes had changed from loving adoration to regret. So she'd  
been shipped off, against her will and the very vocal protest of the rest of  
the Amazons, to Cleveland to work under Faith and Robin Wood. Oh and it was  
definitely under and not with. Buffy had made that abundantly clear at the  
sentencing. That's what it felt like, at least. The Scooby Council had been  
judge, jury, and executioner for the remains of her relationship with Willow.  
Of course Wills shouldn't have to leave South America. She had friends there,  
she had a magical support system there, she was the watcher, blah, blah,  
blah... What about Kennedy? Didn't she matter too? What about the fact that her  
nineteen closest friends and her virtual family for three years were there? What  
about the fact that she was the slayer-come-Watcher in charge of all the martial  
arts drills and patrols?

Where the Scooby Council was concerned, none of that mattered. She wasn't one  
of them and she didn't get a vote. So she'd been dumped into Faith's lap in the  
middle of fucking February in Ohio. It wasn't quite as bad under Firecracker  
Faith as it was under Queen Bitch Buffy, but it wasn't great. Kennedy was  
reduced to being a junior slayer. She hadn't lived through enough, even after  
three years with the power, her survival in the final Sunnydale battle, and her  
years of training as a Potential. Technically, she'd had as much training as Buffy and maybe even more than Faith. After all, she'd actually had a Watcher  
assigned to her as a young girl. She was so much more than the Scoobies saw her  
as.

Idly, she wondered if Saint Tara had ever been kept on the outside the way she  
was. Too make a long and very painful story short, she was reduced from general  
to flunky, a flunky who had to drive 12 hours to Kansas because some newby in  
freaking Oxford had had a slayer dream. Faith, to be fair, was very busy with  
one of those semi-annual percolations of the Hellmouth and the attempted  
ascension of a wicked powerful (Faith's description, not hers) sorceress.

Still this whole mission sucked. To add insult to injury, she was taking orders  
from the Katie Couric wannabe in the ridiculously low cut business suit. The  
super genius who in the middle of a frelling riot that put that Rodney King  
mess to shame still wanted to roam the streets. Trying to help your friend was  
one thing, but this was ridiculous. Kennedy was strong and she was an excellent  
fighter, but if they ran into a mob of twenty or thirty people, she wouldn't be  
able to protect Chloe. Besides, she had a handicap: she wouldn't kill the  
rioters. She didn't think the rioters would feel the same way about killing her.

"Hey! Chloe, can you slow down for just a minute?" The petite blond in  
front of her stopped and turned around. How the girl could remain two or three  
yards ahead of her while wearing what had to be uncomfortable pumps, Kennedy  
would never know.

"What?" Her tone was impatient and Kennedy squeezed and unsqueezed a fist  
at her side a few times to help her channel her anger. It wouldn't do to save  
the damsel in distress and then to beat the ever loving crap out of her.

"We can't stay out here."

"But what about finding my..." Chloe grimaced "…Mr. Luthor?"

"Lionel Luthor? Are you kidding me? That's who we're looking for?" Kennedy  
involuntarily shivered. It was embarrassing. She'd faced uber-vamps and  
vengeance demons and the end of the world (four times now, take that Buffy),  
and the former CEO of LuthorCorp still made her nervous. 

She'd never liked the Luthors. Her father owned the controlling interest in one  
of the most successful pharmaceutical companies on the east coast. It had made  
her family rich. Not a billion or so dollars in the bank and I can buy a small  
country rich, but they did own several luxurious houses large enough to support  
full time staff. It had made the hiring of Kennedy's private British tutor that  
much less conspicuous. The Luthors, thank God, mostly kept to business in the  
mid-west, preferring to deal in Gotham, Chicago, and, of course, Metropolis. No  
one, however, can ignore the wheeling and dealing of New York City and Boston  
completely, especially when that individual seemed to have an intense interest  
in biomedical facilities. Around the time of Kennedy's 14th birthday, the  
Luthors had started summering in the Hamptons. More accurately, Lionel started trying to convince all of her father's business associates to sell their biomedical and pharmaceutical companies to him.

Lex had only been eighteen at the time. He was still the  
talk/entertainment of the parties, much to the embarrassment of his father.  
There were actual pools conducted amongst the teens in which people bet on how long it took the perpetually intoxicated Luthor to do several things: take off his pants, vomit, pass out...etc. If you caught him having sex in one of the swimming pools, you made a thousand dollars automatically. Kennedy had won the grand prize and purchased an antique battle ax with her winnings. Who said the Luthors weren't good for something?

In a way, she really should have been thanking Lex for his behavior because it  
distracted from her own. She was actually a well-behaved child and teenager,  
although she disagreed with her Watcher on how to train, she always  
listened to him. That discipline transferred over into her home life and  
she was an almost model daughter. Almost model because she'd discovered her  
sexual preference early. She wasn't kidding when she told Willow that she'd had  
fantasies of sweeping Scarlett O'Hara off her feet when she was five. By  
fourteen, she'd started bringin her "friends" home. These early  
sleepovers never got to "home run" status, but Kennedy and her girlfriends  
usually rounded third base during those early hot and heavy make out sessions.

By sixteen, it was obvious that there was a real bona fide lesbian living in  
the heart of repressed rich WASP country. Like that didn't embarrass the hell  
out of her parents. Kennedy wasn't ashamed of who she was, but she also didn't  
feel that it was anyone else's business but her own who she loved. She didn't  
try to broadcast each relationship to her community. They weren't secret; it's  
just that Kennedy wasn't quite yet ready to hang a rainbow colored flag over  
her house. (The year before arriving in Sunnydale, she'd finally worked  
her way up to that point and the flag was still out on her parents' balcony.  
Yay for progressive parenting. Now if only they made a slayer pride flag…) In  
those early, awkward years, when her parents--through self-denial that  
would have made Xander proud---didn't know she was gay, both Lex and his father  
had figured it out.

Damn if she knew how. It's not like she saw them more than five or six times a  
summer, during overwhelmingly large pool parties and country club gatherings, but  
they both knew. Lionel was, as always, more smooth than Lex about it, but he  
always managed to make some inference about her sexual preference in front of  
her parents:

"Oh Hello Bob. Lovely party, you must congratulate Felice on her fantastic  
taste. I see your daughter has grown into quite a beauty. I'm sure she catches  
the eyes of all the girls...I mean, makes the other girls jealous, of course." As if anything said with that damn smirk didn't mean exactly what he intended it to mean.

Lex was a lot more crass about it, but considering how coked out he usually  
was, the fact that he could get out a coherent sentence was a miracle. Usually he'd make a bunch of lawn mowing jokes. Classy. The one time she had caught him and Muffy St. Claire in the swimming pool (rounding bases Kennedy had never even dreamed of), he'd simply arched an eyebrow and invited Kennedy to join them. He, after all, had no problem just watching.

She really, really hated the Luthors, and now she had to save one. Being a  
slayer really sucked lately. Rushing the distance between her and Chloe,  
Kennedy grabbed onto the other girl's shoulder. Chloe, still facing forward in  
her desperate (and stupid) search for the billionaire actually yiped.

"Jeez, don't do that. I thought you were another mugger."

(Fun euphemism for attempted gang banger) Kennedy thought. "I'm not, but it  
could have been. Chloe, this city has ten million people in it. There's no  
power, no police officers---not that I'm their biggest fan usually but still---  
and we have no idea where to find this guy. He could even be dead."

Chloe bit her lip and spoke carefully. "I don't think he'd be allowed to  
die."

"Yeah 'cause rich people have totally bought out the Grim Reaper. Come on,  
Chloe, we've been going in circles. We're like half a block from the Daily  
Planet offices."

"I know. I know and I wish I could explain everything, but he's important,  
really important. Think Will Smith and Jeff Goldblum in Independence Day  
important."

"That's the second alien reference you've thrown my way so far tonight. Now  
I've heard of that Quellar thing, but come on. You didn't hit your head before I came along, did you?"

"No. It's just…I don't think things went the way they were supposed to and  
if they didn't..." Chloe hiccupped and rubbed her eyes. Great, just what  
Kennedy needed: a hysterical chick.

"Look, we'll do one more sweep of just the block around the Planet, but then  
we have to take shelter. If anything happens to you Faith will kill me and then  
I'll be partners with Andrew."

Chloe sniffled but when she spoke her voice was level. "Deal."

Kennedy nodded but sat down instead of going forward. She crossed her legs over  
one another Indian style and closed her eyes.

Chloe turned around and huffed at the other girl. "What are you doing? I'm sure the basement of the Daily Planet would be perfect for whatever yoga exercise you have planned."

"Concentrating."

"You can't hear him, can you?"

Kennedy opened one eye and wished she perfected a one-eyed eye roll. "No. God  
you ask weird questions and considering my profession that's saying a lot. I'm...it's complicated. I'm trying to sense him, just trying to feel for where something isn't right."

"All of planet Earth coming up as 'not quite right.'"

"Look. I'm helping you here. I could just drag your ungrateful and bossy ass  
back to the Planet, which is fine by me because Lionel Luthor is just below Queen Bitch Buffy and my ex-girlfriend on my all-time list of least favorite people."

Chloe blinked. "Ex-girlfriend?"

"Do you not have lesbians in Kansas? Yes, girlfriend. Now if you'll shut the hell up, I might be able to help you out." Kennedy shut her eye again.

"Sorry."

The slayer didn't bother to forgive her. This was the damsel in distress, she really didn't give a damn how the other girl felt. It was the mission that mattered, and the mission was keeping them both in one piece.

Kennedy sat quietly, breathing steadily for several minutes. Chloe glanced around, her fingers white from clutching the metal pipe she'd picked up along the way. The other girl was distracted. If anything came for them, it would all be on the reporter whose work schedule hadn't even allowed her to go to the gym in three months to save them both. Perfect. Chloe frowned as she watched the other girl. "Have you got anything  
yet?"

"It's not exactly like a Google search. It takes some time." What Kennedy  
didn't add was that she and her slayer sense were rarely on speaking terms.  
There were some slayers who had honed their psychic gifts to precision, far  
beyond what even the Senior Slayers could do. Using that sixth sense required  
concentration, which Kennedy lacked. She'd concentrate for hours  
to perfect the latest martial arts move, but all that metaphysical stuff  
felt like total bull shit to her, even if she had been dating a goddess for  
three years. She could count on one hand, the number of slayer dreams she'd had  
since her first Watcher had found her. Of course, she and Chloe were also out of options.

Even with her eyes closed, she could sense the utter devastation and it felt infinite, like people in China and Botswana were as likely to be left in darkness as the citizens of Metropolis. Whatever this was, it was everywhere. Somewhere, deep down, Kennedy felt that this would have been stage one if the First had had its way. Less ubervamps, of course, but the Apocalypse had come and team white hat had been sitting on its ass enjoying coffee and a nice croissant.

In the tatters of Metropolis, Kennedy could feel three different entities. The first felt so bright and strong, like a supernova barely contained. Through her closed eyes, she saw a glittering kaleidescope of green. The shock was enough to make her gasp, "Dawn?" She wasn't sure how she knew the youngest Summers was in Metropolis, but she did. If Dawn were here, then Buffy wouldn't be far behind and she was going to be pissed. Great.

Kennedy shook her head and focused on the second entity. If Dawn was the light,  
this was the darknes---utter, complete and cold. She'd never felt anything like  
it. The First had come close, but it, despite all its tough guy talk, was  
annoyance and not pure evil. It taunted and used your insecurities against you.  
This presence was much more like a Turok-khan. It didn't care if you were scared  
or had self doubt or wanted a hug. It just wanted you dead. It was carnage  
incarnate. "And that would be our Big Bad." Kennedy said more to herself  
than to Chloe.

The final presence was confusing as if it were an amalgam of both the light and  
the dark. She could feel the evil in it, a cold predatory desire. It was dulled  
somehow, as if the predator had voluntarily decided to lie down with its pray.  
Lambs and lions and thanks a lot for a Catholic upbringing. The other half felt  
as if had been crammed in with the first, as if someone had tried to over pack a  
suitcase with both shoes and clothes. It was bursting through, neither presence  
like the other and neither ever intended to share space with the other. The two  
aspects were fundamentally different but both conveyed a sense of power. The  
second half of the presence was light, like Dawn, but muted. It was a twinkling  
star to the Key's supernova, but still strong and still stalwart.

Kennedy opened her eyes and gasped; she glared at Chloe. "What the Hell have  
you gotten yourself into?"

Chloe began to fidget with the pipe in her right hand. "What do you mean?"

"Something's here. Something that makes what I face in my day-to-day life  
look like a five year old in a Halloween costume, and then there's something  
else. It's like it's part Lionel Luthor. I get this whole shark vibe from it,  
at any rate, which pretty much sums up that asshole, but there's something else involved too. And it's a hell of a lot more powerful than I am."

"Look, I can explain. I swear it." Chloe wheedled. "But I don't feel like it's exactly my place to tell you everything. If you can find Mr. Luthor, then take me to him. If he  
wants to go for the full out disclosure, then we can do that too."

"Fine, but I'm not going into battle---and don't play coy with me because as  
sure as I'm sitting here that's what's coming----without knowing everything."  
Kennedy leapt up and grabbed her favorite dagger from the waistband of her jeans. "And I'm leading from now on. I think I know where he is, but I'm not being  
led around by Reporter Barbie anymore."

"Excuse me?"

"Hey if the title fits…" Kennedy shrugged. "Your dye job sucks, by the way."

"Bitch."

"And don't you forget it. Come on," Kennedy said, kicking a small pile of  
concrete out of her path. "let's see if Papa Luthor remembers me."


End file.
